


through rusty iron archways

by calmena



Series: Tony Stark Bingo 2019 [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Canonical Character Death (mentioned), Gen, Hopeful Ending(?), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 22:36:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19755151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calmena/pseuds/calmena
Summary: Barnes stared back at him as if was seeing a ghost. For a moment, his mouth moved without a sound, until finally, a croak, just barely audible."I'm sorry."A fill for the Tony Stark Bingo: S2 - Graveyard.





	through rusty iron archways

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Mausoleum by Rafferty. Beta-read by [QueenMaeve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenMaeve/pseuds/QueenMaeve), who was absolutely wonderful, thank you so much!

These days, it seemed that Tony was always tired, but it was worse now. With all that had happened, it wasn't just a lack of sleep that exhausted him, it was _everything_ , the whole damn world and its problems. 

It was only fitting that it was drizzling, enough so that his clothes had become slightly clammy, even though it wasn't actually all that cold. He sat on the simple wooden bench, staring at the air in front of the gravestones on the other side of the gravel path.

He'd been angry for the past two weeks. Two weeks of being one step behind every enemy organization SHIELD had managed to infiltrate as the discovered agents were killed off, two weeks of being too late far too often. Two weeks of exfiltrating exposed SHIELD agents where he could, of rehoming families and of attempting to save people who had been endangered in the wake the information spill of SHIELD's data.

Two weeks of wondering how his dad and Peggy could have let this happen.

Tony rubbed the skin between his eyes and sighed, closing them for a second and just _breathing_. It seemed like he hadn't gotten to do that since he'd had to hit the ground running after Steve and Nat had released the kraken.

He laughed, a little delirious, maybe hysterical. Kraken. Because HYDRA apparently didn't even know what a mythological hydra was supposed to look like.

The laughter cut through the silence around him, and Tony stopped as quickly as he'd started when he heard the note of desperation in it. To think that there was a chance that all of this could have been prevented, had they not allowed people who should have been locked up access to SHIELD. 

And even later, too, still, if Steve had trusted Tony to do what he was best at—code. He could have had JARVIS filter through the information before it was sent out, could even have pulled in FRIDAY—sure, she was still a baby, but this could have been a good learning experience. The processing power required to work their way through the data would have been immense, it might have taken a bit to get through it, but it would have been worth it.

The number of dead was too high, and it all came down to trust. Both too much and the lack of it.

Soft footsteps pulled him out of his musings, and Tony reflexively turned his head, even if there was nobody who would look for him here right then.

He found himself looking at the Winter Soldier, who froze in his steps as soon as he recognized Tony. And recognize him he did, Tony thought darkly, because the man went paler than he was already, eyes bigger and so much more confused than one would expect of the assassin every intelligence agency in the world was on the lookout for.

JARVIS pinged a quiet question in his ear, a tiny speaker built into the frame of Tony's sunglasses, useless in the weather if not for the fact that they hid both his eyes and JARVIS' presence. Tony blinked a Morse code 'no', and readied himself for a possible attack anyway because he was not in the business of leaving things to chance.

The Winter Soldier—Bucky Barnes, if Cap and photographic evidence was to be believed—might look a pathetic sight, with his greasy hair and lost expression, but he was still an assassin who had killed countless people in his tenure. Tony did not intend to be yet another of his victims, so he tensed where he sat, glaring back at Barnes with a spiteful expression.

Barnes only stared back at him as if was seeing a ghost. For a moment, his mouth moved without a sound, until finally, a croak, just barely audible.

"I'm sorry."

Tony frowned, confused. He didn't think he was one of the people Barnes should be apologizing to. Really, almost anyone else would make more sense than him. 

He was about to say something to that effect, momentarily distracted from the utter mess that was the past two weeks, when Barnes looked at him with eyes that were so utterly devastated, Tony would've sworn he could feel it.

"I think I killed your parents."

And then he did feel it.

For a moment, it was as if someone had pulled the world out from right underneath his feet. Tony was reminded of his fall out of the wormhole, when he'd been so sure that he was not going to survive, and when he hadn't been able to _breathe_.

As if from a distance, he heard what must have been a voice, but he was spiraling, half-caught in the sensation of falling, half frantically trying to explain away what Barnes had said. It must have been minutes that passed, even if they felt so much longer, before he slowly started to realize that there really was a steady stream of words that he could cling to.

Before he knew it, he was following the instructions to, "Breathe deep, you can do it, in with me, good. Now hold. And out."

It took far too long for him to understand that it was Barnes who was helping him, Barnes who had been the one to set off the attack in the first place—unintended though it might have been. The realization almost sent him spiraling again because _his parents_ —

In an effort not to lose himself to the panic again, he clutched at... something.

For a moment, he was surprised when that something started clutching back, but everything faded away into absolute, sinking relief that _someone was there_.

It took him far too long to realize that he'd grabbed someone's hand—and that the someone was Barnes, who somehow managed to look both concerned and terrified all at once, even as he held Tony's grip with reassuring tightness, fingers warm against Tony's. Had it been almost anyone else, it would have been good, but—

"Leave."

It was a croaky word that still somehow managed to cut through the silence, and it was only after the fact that Tony realized that it was he who had spoken. As if that was the trigger, suddenly he wanted nothing more than for Barnes to be gone. He had no right to be here, where they were buried, a spiteful part of Tony said, not if he really was the one who'd—

Oh god, his _mum_.

"I thought dear old Dad was _drunk_ ," Tony whispered to himself, gaze wandering to where he'd buried his parents over twenty years ago. "I thought he got her killed."

"I'm so sorry."

With difficulty, Tony averted his eyes from the gravestones, to where Barnes was now standing, out of touching distance, pain in his eyes, as if that would change anything.

Tony knew that he would feel bad later, would try to rationalize it away as the brainwashing it had been and possibly even forgive at some point. He knew all of that.

Still, right then, all he felt was pain and an overwhelming hatred for the hands that had killed his parents. Forgiveness was for later. For now—

"Go."

Tony didn't even watch as Barnes walked away.

He was too busy grieving.


End file.
